Lost at Sea
by the moon and the stars
Summary: I don't know what I expected when I let Caroline go, but it wasn't this. Never this. / With a little help from Stefan, Tyler tries to make sense of a world that stopped making sense a long time ago. Tyler-centric, Klaroline/Forwood. Post-5x12 one-shot.


**Lost at Sea**

**Summary**: I don't know what I expected when I let Caroline go, but it wasn't this. Never this. / With a little help from Stefan, Tyler tries to make sense of a world that stopped making sense a long time ago. Tyler-centric, Klaroline/Forwood. Post-5x12 one-shot.

**Disclaimer**: Put it this way. If I _did_ own TVD – which I _don't_ – I'd fill that large Lockwood mansion with puppies. Or maybe Klaus voo doo dolls. Yeah, I think Tyler would like those better. Contains spoilers for TVD up through 5x12. I also make some vague references to Tyler's activities in NOLA, but you don't have to watch TO to keep up. Contains spoilers for TO 1x07.

**Rating**: M, pretty much just for language. I tried, but there's no way Tyler's internal monologue doesn't include f-bombs.

**Lyrics**: "Losing My Religion" by R.E.M.

**Characters**: Tyler, Stefan, Klaroline/Forwood. Cameo appearance by Matt.

**A/N**: I wanted to post this before 5x13 aired, but obviously I didn't make that deadline. As of right now, I have not watched 5x13 nor have I read any spoilers because I wanted to remain in my own 5x12 head-cannon for this fic. So I honestly have no idea if anyone's even remotely in a Tyler-sympathy state of mind anymore.

Warning: If you don't care to listen to me on my soap box, feel free to skip right to the story :)

Okay, so… I'm probably in the vast minority of diehard Klaroline shippers that still love Tyler Lockwood in spite of his flaws, but I can't help it. I just can't seem to turn my back on a character I've loved since the beginning, and my heart absolutely broke for him in 5x12. (That Matt/Tyler scene? OMG. Even my ice-cold heart thawed briefly.)

IMO, it seems like Tyler gets a bit of flack from the TVD community – and yes, sometimes rightly so – but other times I feel like it isn't entirely deserved. I think we (myself included) write him off sometimes because we love Klaus so much (guilty); because he's off God-knows-where half the time; because his character doesn't get to do much other than brood over Klaus and/or Caroline; and because, well… he _does_ do some stupid crap sometimes. Hey, no one's perfect.

Consider this my attempt to redeem this character a bit in light of the bad press and put him on a decent path for my own peace of mind. I can't guarantee this will be to everyone's tastes, so thank you for even clicking on the link to check this out. I just… needed to write this. Call it catharsis, wishful thinking, whatever. The muse beckons and she is a fickle and demanding mistress :)

Oh yeah, and first time writing Tyler, so be gentle, okay?

* * *

_That's me in the corner…_

* * *

"Tyler, you ready?"

Matt sweeps an inviting hand toward his truck, and just the thought of the open road and the chance to put everything behind me beckons like a dying man's salvation.

Still, I hesitate.

* * *

I always left for a reason. But each and every time, there was always part of me looking back at what I left behind. _Who_ I left behind. An anchor tethering me to sanity. A North star guiding me home.

Not this time.

* * *

I wake up to the brightest rays of sun I've ever seen and a hangover that would make even the tortured souls of hell cringe.

One minute in, and I can already tell today will be just another drop in the ocean of my miserable fucking existence. And I know exactly why.

'_Each morning, you will wake knowing your wretched existence continues only by my will. Now go, and live the rest of your days knowing that you are _nothing _to me.'_

A distant part of me feels perverse satisfaction in disappointing that bastard. The rest of me is too broken to feel much of anything.

* * *

As it turns out, Stefan isn't charitable enough to let me off with just a well-aimed right hook.

He finds me in my room as I'm packing, and strolls right in like he's actually welcome. Too bad Matt's not back from gathering supplies to run interference.

I don't bother turning around. "You know, I get that Matt's invite technically gives you permanent access to my house, but you could at least go through the formality of knocking."

Stefan doesn't take the hint. "Would you have let me in otherwise?" My silence is answer enough. "Thought so. Which is why I figured I'd just save us a step."

Taking his lead, I whip around and get straight to the point. "What do you want, man? I got your message loud and clear last night. You hate me, Caroline hates me, and I'm not exactly your biggest fan either, so why don't you let me get back to getting out of everybody's hair?" I hold up my half-empty bag for emphasis.

Stefan's gaze falls briefly. Weird. If I didn't know better, I'd say he actually feels _guilty_.

"Yeah, about that…" he sighs. "Hitting you was… well, it was out of line. I'm sorry."

"Right." I roll my eyes, resuming my mission to shove as many clothes as will fit in my duffel bag – an action so familiar it almost borders on comforting. Almost. "That it?"

"Not exactly." I don't look over, but the sound of boots creaking against the wood flooring tells me he's crossed the threshold. "I'm here to talk about Caroline."

I exhale, letting the bag fall from my hand.

* * *

The first time I met her was in kindergarten.

She had this ridiculously huge set of coloring pencils that was the envy of every kid in class. To be fair, she _was_ obnoxious about it – showing them off to anyone who'd look, sharpening them to a point after every use, organizing them in between lessons – it was enough to drive any kid nuts.

One day I stole them just to see what she'd do, and I came back from recess to find my pudding cup smeared all over my chair… _after _I already sat in it.

I knew that day that Caroline Forbes would make a great enemy; perhaps an even greater friend.

But I was five, and girls were icky, so I opted for neither.

* * *

Looking back, maybe I should've stuck with that instinct.

* * *

"She _sent_ you here?" I ask incredulously, swiveling around to face him again. "What, are you still playing the white knight or something?"

Stefan shakes his head, unamused. "Caroline's strong enough to handle her own problems. I'm just… lending a helping hand to a friend that's done the same for me."

"Yeah, well, go earn your merit badge somewhere else," I snap, breezing past him and out of my room. Not surprisingly, he follows.

I'm still plenty eager to chase away the lingering drudge of my hangover along with the bitter memories of last night, so when I reach the liquor cabinet I waste no time pouring myself some of the Lockwood's finest. I don't bother offering one to my shadow. In fact, I'm happy to ignore him altogether, but he's obviously determined to screw that plan.

"Ready to talk?" he asks pleasantly, right after I take my first shot.

I scowl, pouring myself another. "You know, I'm really not in the mood to hear about how Caroline's the victim in all this and I'm just a dick for not caring."

I toss the next one back, savoring the burn in my throat and the haziness hovering just off the shore of my brain.

One downside of immortality? It's that much harder to get wasted. And this is not a conversation I want to have at all, let alone sober.

Stefan gives a casual shrug, as if he expects as much. "Well, that's too bad. Because there's a crying girl in my house and even though something tells me my being here won't fix anything, I'm not leaving until you hear what I have to say."

"Why don't you just run back to Caroline and tell her you tried?" I shoot back, waving the bottle around carelessly. "You'll probably get points for effort. I mean, we know how she rewards guys who champion her cause."

I hear a growl, and then Stefan has me pinned against a wall before the bottle even hits the floor.

* * *

I changed because of Klaus once, when he first turned me. When he stripped away my mortality and my freedom. Now that he's taken everything I had left, it's happening all over again.

Except this time the only person I can blame for my actions is me.

* * *

Even to this day, I still remember what it felt like to be sired to that bastard.

It's a far cry from compulsion, true, but there's still that silky smooth voice needling your brain, urging you to obey, obey, obey. And you _want _to. To make master happy. Because when he's happy, you see, so are you.

And thus the toxic cycle continues.

It isn't even until your free will's been tested that you realize how much you miss it, but when you do, you fight like hell to break free.

And even though I did, it doesn't change the fact that he _made_ me. His blood literally runs in my veins. He's part of me. Forever.

But even I know there's only so long I can keep using him as my excuse.

* * *

There's a vampire snarling in my face, and honestly, I'm almost too fucked up to care.

"_Don't_," Stefan hisses, eyes blazing, "don't you dare say that about her."

I blink, his sudden hostility clearing the fog in my head long enough for me to realize what I said. How far gone I am.

When I stop struggling against the arm locking me in place and duck my head in resignation, Stefan releases me. Hard.

"Look, I shouldn't've said that about Caroline," I offer. I actually mean it, too.

"No you shouldn't," he agrees, but evidently accepts my lame apology. "You're allowed to be upset, Tyler, but there are limits."

Like the flip of a switch, his words reignite the fire he only just snuffed out of me. "Don't talk to me about limits," I bark. "Talk to _her_."

* * *

I don't know what I expected when I let Caroline go, but it wasn't this. Never this.

* * *

Taking those final steps out of her dorm room – walking out of her life for good – was one of the hardest things I've ever done. But I'd do it again in a heartbeat if it meant keeping her safe. I knew the road I'd chosen was a damning one and there was no way in hell I was about to drag her down with me.

But as I made myself leave, the harsh promise of _'No more chances'_ haunting each step, I could only hope with every fiber of my being that _'Until we find a way'_ was the promise that would win out in the end.

* * *

I wasn't naïve enough to think she wouldn't find someone else in the meantime.

But sweet fucking misery, why did it have to be _him_?

* * *

"I _have_ talked to Caroline," Stefan insists, "and now it's your turn. Like I said, I'm not leaving until you hear me out."

"Fine. Stay. _I'll_ leave." I make for the front door, shoving past him. "Seeing as you destroyed my last bottle of booze, this place is a dry zone anyway."

He flashes in front of me, and I automatically recoil, anticipating another attack. Instead, he merely stops me with a hand, the other shoving something hard and heavy into mine. "Then I guess it's lucky for me I came with a peace offering."

I look down. In my hands is a blessedly full bottle of bourbon.

I war with myself for all of three seconds before I relent. If we're really going down this path of self-flagellation – and he's made it abundantly clear I have no say in the matter – might as well accept the aid of liquid courage.

Taking a swig straight from the bottle, I brace myself for the lecture I know is coming.

"Well?" I prompt when Stefan remains silent. "Go ahead. Floor's all yours. The sooner we finish, the sooner I can put this town and everyone in it behind me."

"Is that what you really want?" he asks. He seems genuinely curious. "To forget?"

A humorless laugh escapes me. Like the answer isn't obvious. "It's not like I've got much here worth holding onto." I gesture dramatically at my empty, big ass house. "Klaus made sure of that."

* * *

Jenna.

Jules.

Elena.

Me.

My entire pack.

_My mother._

Not to mention thousands upon thousands of other nameless victims.

He slaughtered them all. Without blinking. Sometimes while laughing.

How long was it until the faces belonging to these names started to fade? How long was it before the blood on his hands was washed clean?

How long, Care? How long?

* * *

Like I said, I never wanted her to be a part of any of it, my revenge. And as it turned out, she wasn't.

She was the latest installment of _his_.

* * *

When Stefan finally responds, it's a far cry from what I'm expecting.

"You're welcome, by the way."

I'm baffled until I see him pointing at the bottle currently attached to my lips. "Damon finds out I swiped that, and he's liable to stake me for it."

_Damon_. I pause, a new thought occurring to me.

"You do realize," I say evenly, "that if it weren't for Klaus and his obsession with creating his hybrid master race, he never would've dragged you out of Mystic Falls and you never would've lost Elena to Damon? You really don't care that Caroline actually gave it up for that bastard?" I shake my head, bewildered by his resolve to play devil's advocate. "How on earth can you defend this? How can you defend the guy who ruined not just my life, but yours too?"

Stefan frowns. "I'm not. I'm defending Caroline.

"But since you brought it up," he continues, grabbing the bottle from me and downing a generous mouthful before handing it back. "The Klaus revenge fantasies? Trust me, I get it. Been there myself, like you said."

I nod with hesitation, unsure where he's going with this.

"Which is why I can confidently say this path you're headed down? It doesn't lead anywhere good. Because once you start, it's almost impossible to find your way back again."

That's assuming you mean to come back at all. But of course I don't say that.

"Look," I say impatiently. "I get that he ruined your life, compelled you, made you Ripper Stefan again, whatever. And that sucks, man, it really does. But until he takes away every single person that you've ever loved, don't try to draw comparisons. He took _everything _from me. Everything!"

"No, not everything."

I just stare at him, waiting for him to fill in the blanks.

"Your humanity. He hasn't taken that from you. At least," he adds grimly, "not yet."

* * *

Revenge is a form of control – that, or the exact opposite – but when you have nothing left to lose, it's just risk-free gambling. A lifeline. A purpose. A gift.

Avenging my pack and my mother fulfilled that purpose.

They all put their faith in me, while I put mine in a girl who only ever looked out for herself. We were so, so wrong, all of us… and we paid the price.

I promised my friends freedom and I didn't deliver. I tried to be worthy of their trust, be a capable leader like my mother – like _Caroline_ – saw me as, but I failed. I failed them all. Their blood is on my hands just as sure as the monster that massacred them out of spite.

I couldn't let their murders go unacknowledged. I couldn't. They deserved better. So even though Klaus can't die, even though it was a suicide mission, I had to try to make him pay. I owed them that much. I owed them so much more than my sorry little life, but theirs is a debt I can't ever pay in full. So I did what I could… no matter what it cost me.

The instant I chose anything over _her_, I should have realized that there's always more to lose.

* * *

The first time I left Mystic Falls was to find myself. I was a pathetic newbie wolf pup and despite the creep factor that accompanied Jules in spades, I was in no position to turn down free help. The fact that Caroline hated my guts was just added incentive to bail.

* * *

The second time I left was to fix myself. Because lord knows I needed it. As if nearly getting Jeremy killed didn't earn me some tar and feathers, I nearly lost Caroline, the person I love most, for the same reason: my goddamn pride. Blind confidence that let me believe I had any control over my actions while Klaus just laughed and pulled the strings tighter.

So I forced myself to change. Literally.

I broke every single bone in my body a hundred times so that Caroline would be safe with me. Self-inflicted torture for hours, days, _weeks_ until I finally succeeded. I owned the pain of my werewolf transformation. I cut the strings. I owed Klaus nothing. I came back a free man, but it wasn't until later that I learned I would never escape him. Ever.

* * *

The next time I didn't exactly _leave_ so much as _flee. _Because even with his supposed _love_ begging on my behalf, Klaus extends about as much mercy as the full moon.

Killing my mother wasn't enough. Killing my recently liberated friends wasn't enough. Killing my conscience, my heart, and my _fucking soul_ wasn't enough. He had to take my peace of mind, too. So I ran, loathing how much he got off on making me squirm, leaving me in suspense, always wondering if he's around the corner, if today's the day he's finally going to end the game, end my misery and just slaughter me already.

And the worst part? I _wanted_ it to be over. I still do.

* * *

The last time I left home, though, wasn't because of his revenge; it was because of _mine_. And it was a failure of epic proportions –

'_For someone who hates Klaus, you certainly sound a lot like him.'_

– in more ways than one.

* * *

"Seriously, man?" I return fiercely. "Klaus isn't the villain we all think just because he didn't compel my humanity away like he did yours? Forget my mother and all the other people he's killed. _That's_ what will prove he's evil incarnate?"

Stefan sighs. My belligerence is clearly taking a toll on his sanity. Good. "What I'm saying is don't let him make you just another one of his victims. When I got my freedom back, all I could think about was destroying his life when I should've tried to salvage what was left of mine. Maybe then I wouldn't have lost so much," he trails off, clearly haunted by the sins of his past. "I was so full of hate that I couldn't even think straight. Couldn't understand my own actions half the time. I finally reached a point where I started forgetting who I was, why _he_ was the villain, and why I was ever any better."

What he does next is so unexpected and _wrong_ that I actually flinch.

He laughs. He fucking _laughs_. It doesn't sound remotely funny.

"You know what he said to me once?" he asks rhetorically, a faraway look in his eyes. "That I should _thank_ him for giving me someone to hate. A target for all of my anger so that I don't have to turn it on myself."

Classic Klaus. He fed me the same bullshit speech once about how I should kiss his feet for taking away the pain of full moon transitions with the so-called _gift_ of vampirism. Thanks, dick. Was the sire bond just a non-refundable bonus?

Stefan's eyes find me then, as if remembering he's not alone. "Never thought I'd say this, but he's right." At my scandalized look, he elaborates. "Think about it. Without compulsion or a sire bond dictating our every move, we've out of an excuse. We own the consequences of our actions because _we_ choose them, not him. It's twisted logic, but it doesn't change the fact that freedom can be a burden sometimes. That's why once I finally got mine back, I couldn't cope. I actually _rebelled_ against it. I was always looking backwards, hating Klaus, when I should've moved on, taken my freedom, and just _run_.

"So learn from my mistakes," he finishes at last. "Don't let him turn you into a monster like he almost did me."

I fix him with a pointed look. "It's a bit late for the 'take the high road, forgiveness is your salvation' sermon, don't you think?"

"Think of it this way," he revises. "Hatred is just another form of caring, and Klaus gets off on yours. Don't let him win."

He punctuates those final words in such a way that I'm reminded of Matt when he's getting the Timberwolves pumped up in the huddle… when we're down by three touchdowns and only two minutes to go.

In order words, his motivational speech means jack in the face of the impossible.

And it's that very hopelessness that makes me crumble.

My shoulders sag in defeat, the neglected bourbon nearly falling from my grasp. I don't even realize I'm speaking because the voice I hear sounds nothing like mine.

"It's too late. He's already won."

Stefan's reply is immediate. "If I believed that, I wouldn't be here. Don't look so surprised," he adds at my reaction, lips curving upward. "Believe it or not, I'm trying to help you, too. Not just Caroline."

The name snaps me out of my pity-party, reminding me of the real reason for this lovely home invasion. "Right," I reply vacantly. "Caroline."

* * *

'_Emotions ran high, inhibitions ran low. Then, in a moment of weakness, the thick sexual tension became something much more real…'_

Oh, for the love of –

* * *

"We've all done terrible things," Stefan reminds me, ever the diplomat. I don't bother holding back a scoff. "Klaus, me, you... Caroline."

Subtle, dude.

"Thanks for that pearl of wisdom, Dr. Phil."

He ignores me, surely immune to my sarcasm by now. "And yet she always sees the best in people," he adds, almost fondly. "It's one of the reasons she became my friend. She saw past the darkest parts of me. It's a rare person who can do that."

"So let me guess," I remark dryly, "Underneath the psychotic ruthless exterior, Klaus has a heart of gold that only Caroline can access? Please."

The turn of this conversation is so ridiculous it borders on comical. Hand us a couple of mikes and we could easily take this show on the road.

Stefan doesn't bat an eye. "Don't forget that Caroline saw the best in you, too."

I perk up because, hell, that might just be the first thing we've agreed on all day.

* * *

The second time I met her, she blasted my whole world apart.

Oh, she was still crazy, neurotic Caroline and every bit as formidable as her five-year-old self. But after twelve years of ignorance, I finally saw what I'd been missing.

* * *

It started when she saved a life that, frankly, was hardly worth saving. To this day I still don't understand what mystery potential that girl ever saw in me. I deserved the agony of each and every full moon transition for what I did to Sarah, but Caroline made a different call. She stayed with me. She protected me. She risked her own life. She gave me hope.

For a lowlife who just made rock bottom his permanent address, it was like hitting the fucking lottery.

* * *

A vampire and a werewolf, together… we defied every rule nature threw our way and came out the other side that much stronger. Even when the inevitable happened – when I screwed up, repeatedly, as is my legacy – she never turned her back on me. She forgave me. She _loved_ me. God knows I didn't deserve any of it.

Which is why I'll never be able to thank her enough. It's a debt I tried to repay through what was easily the biggest regret of my life. When I stupidly walked out of hers.

* * *

'_Just be the love of my life!' she begs me. 'Just love me more than you hate him.'_

_I do, I think._

'_I can't,' I say. My mother and my friends need me. And you deserve better._

(I'll just say it: I do some dumb shit sometimes.)

I should've just wrapped her in a big red bow and handed her to Klaus myself.

* * *

Out loud, I tell Stefan, "That right there should tell you how screwed up her instincts are."

* * *

In the end, Caroline was the second casualty of my failed revenge, not the first.

'_You've grown bloodthirsty,' he admires in a way that makes my skin crawl. 'Perhaps it's best your mother didn't live to see you like this.'_

Didn't think I could sink any lower, but Klaus was right. Because the first casualty was _me_.

As if I didn't already know I am my own greatest failure.

* * *

Stefan eyes me shrewdly. "If you actually believe you're already that far gone, then don't you think it's a bit hypocritical to condemn _Caroline_ for one moment of weakness?" he asks pointedly, and that's the moment I reach my breaking point for listening to this bullshit.

"What the hell do you want from me?" I snarl, eager to dish back even _half_ the crap he's given me today. "To remind me that I have no moral high ground to stand on? That I have no right to be upset? That I shouldn't go torching bridges when I already have so few left? Jesus, Stefan, do you actually expect me to be _happy_ about this?"

Not. Fucking. Likely.

And then it hits me. "Wait a second. You don't – please tell me you don't actually support this." My voice betrays how much I hope he contradicts me.

"I support _her_," he chooses his words carefully. "I'm not happy about it, and God knows she can do better than Klaus, but I'm not going to stone her if he's her choice." He sighs. I grit my teeth because it's a sound I've heard way too many times today. "I just know that with my checkered past, I'd hate to be judged for any of my mistakes."

That one word stops me cold.

"Is that what Caroline called it?" I ask. "A mistake?"

Funny. That's not the impression I got.

* * *

The day Klaus bit her was eye-opening in more ways than one.

Until he shelved his pride along with his petty revenge by saving the girl I love – and evidently the girl _he_ loves, too – I always questioned his sincerity.

If I knew then what I know now, I would've realized that the person I should question is _her_.

* * *

Suspicion nagged at me for months, but like an idiot, I willfully turned a blind eye to all the warning signs – and there were no shortage of them, believe me.

(Ignorance is bliss, after all.)

But in that quintessential moment, all the denial I'd buried came rushing to the surface in sharp, devastating clarity.

'_Get me out of here.' Her voice is thick with pain; her eyes, betrayal. Hurt. 'I can't even look at him.'_

Thing is, you can't be betrayed by someone you don't trust. You can't be hurt by someone you don't care about.

How the hell did that happen? When did I start losing her?

* * *

Was it when he gave you a creepy drawing you could never bring yourself to throw away?

'_Tyler, nothing. Nothing happened,'_ you assured me, and I believed you.

* * *

Was it when he promised he'd wait a fucking _century_ until you were ready to let him show you the world?

'_It doesn't matter how many times I dance with him. I love you,' _you promised me, and I still believed you.

* * *

Was it when we were discussing my future – my commitment to helping other werewolf packs instead of settling into a simple human routine that no longer called to me?

'_Let's not talk,' _you deflected, and I wondered when we stopped seeing eye to eye.

* * *

Was it when you so easily agreed to a date with him, a date that he extorted at the expense of one of my friends?

A friend is a friend, and a life is a life, Caroline. I never thought you so heartless before.

* * *

Was it when he fed you some bullshit about hummingbirds in the Andes and what it means to be human?

I saw you smile at him. Genuinely. All that playacting, pretending we were over, pretending you enjoyed his company… how much of it was forced?

* * *

Was it when you tried to save his ass by blabbing my hybrid rescue plan to Stefan?

All I wanted – _needed_ – was you on my side. I thought that's what you wanted too.

* * *

Was it when I risked my life to give you the perfect prom, and you wore a beautiful dress smelling vaguely of _him_?

I bet you thought I didn't notice.

* * *

Was it when he did one semi-decent act in the wake of millions of cruel ones by letting me come home to you? Did you honestly forget he's the _reason_ we were torn apart in the first place?

Don't be so naïve, Care. It wasn't noble. It was strategic. He wanted on your good side, and he got it.

And how is that fair? You can't forgive me for taking _one more step_ away from you, but you can overlook every despicable act he's ever done? I was even willing to be that bastard's slave again in exchange for the cure running through his veins. Or did you also forget that _he's_ the one that nearly killed you – not just once, but _twice_?

Lord knows I won't be up for sainthood anytime soon. But between me and him, is there really any doubt which of us is the bigger monster, Caroline?

* * *

Part of me thinks this was inevitable. Distance wasn't the only barrier between us. Neither was Klaus.

But in the end, I guess it doesn't matter when or how it started. It only matters that it did.

* * *

The third and final time I met her, I didn't recognize the formidable girl with the colored pencils and the big heart. Not at all.

* * *

"So. You think she has real feelings… for Klaus," Stefan says slowly, like he doesn't quite know what the words mean. Lord knows I don't.

Not even attempting to mask my disgust, I qualify, "I think she _thinks_ she does, yeah."

Stefan remains silent for a minute as he processes. I can tell him right now that all the time in the world won't help.

"Not to be insensitive – " I actually snort at that " – but why _do_ you care, Tyler? You're the one that left her, remember?"

I just stare at him like the answer is painfully obvious. Because honestly, is he a complete moron?

"Oh."

I nod solemnly, raising the bottle to my lips yet again. "Exactly."

* * *

That's right. I still love her. In spite of everything – reason, morality, _sanity_ – I still love her. I probably always will.

But loving Caroline Forbes is like loving a ghost. The girl I fell in love with doesn't exist anymore.

* * *

Klaus could not have planned his revenge better. He didn't just steal the love of my life. He ruined her.

* * *

And on that final painful note, this conversation is way past its expiration date.

"So is the crucifixion over yet?" I ask abruptly. "Or are there any more wounds you'd like to reopen? Any last bits of sagely advice you'd like to dole out?"

Undeterred, Stefan answers me seriously. "My honest advice? Move on. Find a new reason to live – apart from _both_ of them." I don't need to ask which two people he means. "About all you can do, really."

I shake my head helplessly. "You say that like it's so easy."

"Believe me, it's not," he replies knowingly, sadly. "That's why they call it living."

* * *

Now where have I heard that before?

'_Death offers more peace than you deserve,' he sneers in my face, ripping his hand from my chest and, to my utter shock, leaving my hammering heart intact. Broken, but intact. 'It's better to let you live.'_

Oh. Right.

* * *

I expel a breath and just like that, I feel the hostility leave with it. Something worse takes its place.

"I just…" I start, and then I realize. Grief. That's what I'm feeling. Shit. "I don't know if I can forgive her. Not for this."

It's about as honest as I'm capable of right now. Unless I polish off my generously large _peace offering_ and continue my downward spiral.

Screw it. Hello, Oblivion.

"It's not your job to forgive her," Stefan points out, the bottle freezing half-way to my face.

Caroline may not technically need my forgiveness, but I need it. To move on. Like he said.

"But," he goes on, "she still cares about you, and it's pretty clear it's mutual, so find a way to coexist. You don't have to love her. Hell, you don't even have to like her. Just do us all a favor and stop treating her like a leper." His tone has that no-nonsense, big brother quality that I might appreciate under any other circumstances. "Got it?"

There's a sense of finality accompanying the question, and it's for that reason alone that I don't bother with the retort I'm more than entitled to.

I nod dully, pacifyingly. "Sure, man. Whatever."

It was pretty clear from the moment I opened my eyes this morning I was never going to win anyway.

* * *

It isn't until Stefan's already disappeared out the front door that I finally recognize the acute sense of déjà vu that's been lingering in the background all morning.

This isn't the first time we've had this conversation. This isn't the first time I've heard this piece of advice from him.

'_No matter what her flaws are, when push comes to shove, you're going to want that girl on your side.'_

Then again, this isn't the first time I've ignored it, either.

* * *

A promise I once made her doesn't feel quite so ironic anymore.

'_I will live a happy life without you. I will forget all about you. And I will never, ever think about you again.'_

I hope it's that easy.

No, scratch that. I just hope it's _possible_.

* * *

I thought it was Klaus who broke me. Turns out it was Caroline.

Every time I left her behind, all I could dream about was being with her again; now, whenever I see her, all I want is to be gone. I've experienced anger and rage a thousand times over in as many different forms, which is how I know that this feeling right here? It's a whole new monster.

In its most basic terms, it's pain. Misery. Despair. Just as intense as the day my mother was stolen from me. By the man Caroline replaced me with.

It hurts too damn much dwell on it, so I don't.

I take a page out of Stefan's book. I run.

I leave the bottle behind.

* * *

My North star fades from my sight as dawn ushers in the harsh light of reality.

I release the anchor, and now I'm just drifting, drifting, drifting towards everything and nothing.

Freedom is a bitch, indeed.

* * *

"Hey, man," Matt jogs over when I don't answer, eyeing me worriedly. "You still up for this?"

I blink back to the present, my world rapidly shrinking to this one crucial moment. This one choice I have yet to make.

Against my will, my eyes roam over my house, my town – my _home_ – I'm leaving behind. The one that sheltered me as a child. The one that forced me to grow up in the most brutal ways. The one that brought me nothing but misery in the end.

It's a no-brainer.

"Absolutely," I tell him, tossing my bag into the truck. "Let's get the hell out of here."

This time when I leave, there's nothing pulling me back.

**FIN**

* * *

**A/N**: Eek, I really don't know how I feel about this, to be honest. Tyler's a very tough nut to crack, and I'm not sure I did him justice. I was going for moody!Tyler when dealing with his actions, and more depressed!Tyler when he goes into his own head. Not sure if that came through or not. I'll let you guys be the judges. Thanks for reading!


End file.
